Hands
by bitterending
Summary: [mild incest] Fred rarely did things so chaste and sentimental without wanting something in immediate return.


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.  
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George was only slightly roused from his slumber at the feel of fingers entwining with his own. The hand was strong and, despite the calluses, strangely soft. It clenched around his own comfortingly, as if George needed reassuring from a bad dream he couldn't remember. Soothed, George absently squeezed back, falling back to sleep with little effort.

It wasn't long before George became vaguely aware that the hand was moving. It was sliding gently, spreading George's fingers and laying its palm flat against his own, as if praying. George furrowed his brow, but didn't open his eyes. The fingertips ran down George's fingers to brush lightly at his palm. George reflexively closed his hand around the knuckles of the other as its fingers traced his lifelines. "Fred?" George murmured, consciousness seeping in enough for him to come to at least one obvious conclusion. The only response was Fred's hand repositioning itself to curl loosely around his palm.

George felt his fingertips slowly exploring the back of his hand, dipping in at each knuckle to touch the sensitive skin between each finger. George held his hand limp at his wrist, letting Fred pet tenderly at it with uncharacteristic admiration. Fred pressed his palm against the back of George's hand and laced their fingers. George hummed softly, still half asleep. Something about this was oddly sensual, in a way that was still somehow entirely innocent. George's hand was tingling in what seemed almost like anticipation as Fred's fingers rolled briefly over the inside of his wrist, twisting back around to clasp him palm-to-palm again.

George felt his hand being gently tugged back, and Fred's hand slid out of George's grip to slide around his fingers. A small moan of surprise slipped past George's lips as the pad of each finger was brought to Fred's mouth for a soft kiss. George shuddered as he finished, and Fred interlocked their fingers again and placed them against George's heart.

George suddenly became aware of the chest pressed against his back and the elbow resting on his waist. How long had Fred been lying like that? The whole time? Longer? He suddenly felt knees bend underneath his thighs, spooning him affectionately. When George turned his head slightly to face his brother, he felt Fred's other hand reach up and pet the bright auburn fringe from his face.

"I love you, George."

Fred's voice was low and satisfied in his ear as his face nuzzled into his neck. George felt a slight tremor in his spine, the way he always did when Fred was brave enough to say the words aloud. "Luvootoo." George slurred drowsily as he felt Fred place a kiss just behind his ear.

Fred rarely did things so chaste and sentimental without wanting something in immediate return, but after a moment George felt Fred's breathing go deep and even against his back as he fell asleep, entirely contented. Sleeping beside him was all he was going to ask for tonight. The corner of his mouth twitching, George tightened his hold on Fred's hand.

Had Lee or Kenneth been awake to see them, George would've called him a sap and kicked him out of the bed to wake him up. But it was just them, now. He didn't have to tease or joke. He finally forced himself to open his eyes and saw Fred's face nuzzled warmly against his shoulder blade, his skin illuminated by the glow of moonlight leaking through George's closed drapes.

He felt Fred's hand just barely gave his another lethargic squeeze, as if he sensed his brother's eyes on him. Touched, George leaned back slightly and pecked gently at his twin's hair before settling back against him and repeated in a clear, quiet whisper, "I love you, too, Fred."

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A/N: I honestly don't really know where this came from. I suppose I just felt the twins needed a purely "sweet" moment, because it always seems like they're pranking and joking and laughing about everything, but no one's like that twenty-four seven. Even pranksters have gentle moments now and again, right? I dunno. Blame my procrastination - I wrote this instead of practicing the speech I have due next week. XD


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